


Kindness Prevails

by temporal-infidelity (Alvitr)



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV), Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: M/M, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Relationship, Unrequited Love, jsamn kink meme week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 09:06:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5284904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alvitr/pseuds/temporal-infidelity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written to fulfill the following prompt, for the jsamn kink meme week mini-fill challenge (though this is a bit big for a mini-fill):</p>
<p>
  <i>So in a lot of things I have read Norrell has usually only fallen in love once, and very deeply with the person in the fic (sometimes also the Raven King but yeah), and I was thinking of something a little different. How about a Norrell who is lonely and doesn't have many friends and companions, and never did, so whenever someone is kind to him and becomes his friend or shows attention to him he falls in love with them (could be that he imagines himself in love, or actually falls in love properly). It always ends badly and he is always so upset afterwards, meaning he has so much hope each time that this time it will be better and they will love him back.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Basically give me Norrell who falls in love hard and fast, and gets his heart broken every time.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kindness Prevails

The phantom of love moves among us at will  
Each phantom-limb lost has got an angel  
So confused like the wagging bobbed-tail   
of a bulldog, kindness, kindness prevails  
\- Joanna Newsom, "Esme"

i.

His first love was a boy at Giggleswick. Of course, he did not think of it at the time as "love" -- he tried not to think of it at all, in fact, because doing so would force him to consider things about himself he did not wish to engage with at present. All he knew was that he liked to look upon Matthew very much, and that being in his presence made him unbearably happy while at the same time intensely uncomfortable. He forgot words, and his heart raced, and he yearned for something he did not know how to name. He wondered sometimes, much later, if Matthew had known the effect he had upon him; if he did, he did not give away the game. He was the nicest and most patient with Gilbert out of all the other students at school -- indeed, that was likely the source of the intense affection he felt for him -- but there was always something slightly remote in his manner.

In any case, it did not last long. Life became intolerable for Gilbert at Giggleswick after awhile, and he did not stay long. He never saw Matthew again. He longed to write to him, but was too afraid to do so. Instead he let the hollow feeling his absence left in him slowly fade away into a dull ache.

ii.

The next time he fell in love, it was with Ethan, his uncle's valet. He was older than Gilbert by about ten years, and had taken something of a paternal interest in the orphaned boy, as Uncle Haythornthwaite was not really of a fatherly persuasion. Gilbert might have gone along without such care and attention and complained little; his own father had not been very demonstrative either, and one could not really miss what one had never had in the first place. Was it little wonder that a boy of sixteen, awkward and unpracticed in the ways of the world, his head forever stuck in books and his mind lost to the study of magic, would seize upon any kind of fondness shown to him and burnish it and polish it until it became something the giver had never intended? Poor Ethan, and poor Gilbert. When Uncle Haythornthwaite found his ward showing obvious signs of attachment towards a male servant, there was nothing for it. Ethan was let go immediately, and without reference.

iii.

Several years later, after Uncle Haythornthwaite died, Gilbert found himself again suffering the now much more familiar pangs of love. This time the object of his affection was a bookseller in York; his name was Mr. Lovett, and he was of an age with Gilbert. He was always very obsequious and eager to track down the obscure titles his customer had an interest in, and he was often quite successful in doing so. This was why, Gilbert told himself, he found it necessary to travel down to York in person to visit Mr. Lovett's shop so very often. No one else understood his life's work the way he did. Consequently, he became Mr. Lovett's best customer, and the two men became quite familiar, as familiar, at least, as anyone could become with Gilbert Norrell.

Being older and a bit wiser now (he told himself), Gilbert was better aware of what the flush of feeling that raced through him every time he traveled to York to visit Mr. Lovett meant. He also knew that such romantic interest was generally not considered respectable in society. Therefore he found himself in quite the dilemma. He could not stop himself from visiting Mr. Lovett a ridiculous number of times every month, and yet the thought of continuing in such a manner indefinitely seemed to him a torture. However, there was one other thing that had changed since the last time Gilbert had found himself in this situation -- he was now a practical magician.

Well, it was early days yet, it was true; but he had managed to produce some magical results, and he knew of a number of spells that might help him. If they worked. But he could make them work. He would make them work.

Thus it came about that Gilbert Norrell attempted for the first and the last time to cast a love spell. This turned out to be the last time not because the magic did not work; it did work. It simply did not work at all as Mr. Norrell had intended it to. Much later, when Gilbert could bring himself to look at the spell again, he figured out that there must have been a mistake when the spell was copied out in the edition he owned. A subtle change of wording had resulted in the spell provoking the opposite effect which he desired. Rather than finding himself inexplicably in love, Mr. Lovett found himself inexplicably repulsed; and Gilbert found himself not only rebuffed, but banned from the bookshop.

It took some time for Gilbert to recover from this terrible set back, not only emotionally, but also because his greatest source for books had quite cruelly extinguished. He decided, at last, to hire himself a man of business who could handle the procurement of texts for him, thus ensuring he might never have contact with Mr. Lovett again, nor indeed any other booksellers for whom he might develop feelings. This man of business was named John Childermass, and he was many things, including loyal, self-sufficient, and insightful; but one thing that he absolutely was not was "kind".

iv.

For a long time, Gilbert kept himself aloof from others. It was safer this way; and truthfully, it was a great relief. It was not until many years later, when Childermass forced him to enter the world and display his magic, that he again found himself in trouble, and this time, his attentions were fixed not only on one man, but on two.

The first was Henry Lascelles. Dimly, Gilbert had a vague idea that Mr. Lascelles was not a very good person; but he was respectable, and he was flattering, and he became everything he could ever want in a confidante, or so he supposed.

The second, of course, was Jonathan Strange. The feelings he had for Strange were different than any he had felt before. In some ways, he reminded him very much of Matthew, the sweet boy he had loved when he was only twelve years old, so long ago that he could not even remember his face. Indeed, sometimes in Mr. Strange's presence he felt reduced to boyhood. At the same time he felt a little frightened of his student; though Mr. Strange was always deeply polite to him, he often felt as though there was something about him which Mr. Norrell was helpless to control. 

These two affections warred within him constantly over the span of the decade or so he spent in their acquaintance. Scarred by the terrible result of his infatuation with Mr. Lovett, he tried to make no indication of how he felt, but did all he could in order to keep the two of them close. This was not easy, for neither liked the other. Mr. Lascelles in particular hated Mr. Strange, and when the latter finally left him, their friendship utterly ruined, Mr. Lascelles was there. He was, Gilbert thought to himself, the only one who had ever stayed. 

Yet when he found himself telling Childermass to leave, urged on by Mr. Lascelles, he wondered. He watched his man of business turn to go, his unkind profile as familiar to him as the spines on his library shelves, and thought of all the years and years they had spent in each other's company, Childermass a sometimes silent, sometimes sardonic presence on the edge of his perception. How many mornings had he woken to Childermass's knock upon the door to his bedchamber? It must be thousands by now. Childermass had stayed, and he was only going now because Gilbert had forced him to do so.

He did not know how to feel about that.

v.

"Childermass," he said. On the other side of the dusty mirror he held, dimly illuminated by a candle in the penetrating darkness of the Gentlemen's curse, he could just barely see his man of business's sharp features. A rush of emotion nearly overpowered him, it was so sudden and strong. He had not known how much he longed to see that face until this very moment.

"Mr. Norrell," Childermass replied. "Where are you, sir?"

"Oh," Gilbert said, "I do not quite know. We have been drifting through Faerie for quite some time now; I feel we might have passed beyond it by now, into worlds no one has ever written about."

Childermass was silent for a moment. Then he said, "Will you and Mr. Strange ever return?"

Now it was Gilbert's turn to be silent. He thought deeply, his thumb rubbing back and forth over the worn silver frame of the mirror. In truth, Mr. Strange was the one who had most endeavored to find a way to break their curse. He had helped, to be sure, but he did not find himself so uncomfortable in their strange situation. Only now did he find himself suddenly compelled otherwise. He wondered why he had decided to try to contact Childermass, after all this time. He could have done it any point, once Mr. Strange had discovered this way to speak to his wife, but today he had been working in his library and he had found a note written in Childermass's hand that had been wedged in the corner of his desk drawer. The sight of that awkward writing, slanted entirely the wrong way (for Childermass wrote with his left hand) had filled him with a desire to behold the face that he had seen nearly every day of his life for over twenty-five years.

"I do not know," he said at last. "I hope so."

Childermass gave his crooked smile. "Well then, Mr. Norrell," he said, "when you do, I shall be waiting. Not as your servant, but as a fellow magician."

Something inside of him that he'd thought had perhaps finally died fluttered meekly. He bit the fat of his lip and his eyes watered slightly. He managed to say, in a somewhat steady voice, "And ... and I hope, Mr. Childermass ... as a friend, as well."

Childermass inclined his head. "Aye, sir," he said. "That as well."

Kindness, Gilbert thought, manifested itself in a far greater spectrum than he had ever suspected.


End file.
